The Island

Time Out says

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5 out of 5 stars

Time Out says

Sometime in the future, the amnesiac
survivors of an apocalyptic event called ‘the Contamination’ wake up in a
Kubrickian lifestyle complex where they live under microscopic surveillance.
The residents (inmates?) of this sprawling glass-and-stone pavilion bide their
highly regimented time until the day they’re selected by lottery for ‘the
Island’, hyped as a pathogen-free paradise. Lincoln Six-Echo (Ewan McGregor),
however, is troubled by a nasty recurring nightmare, a strobe-speed image
barrage that evokes Joel-Peter Witkin directing an Evian ad – though Aquafina
has apparently monopolised the local water supply, while Lincoln’s sock drawer
is a Puma commercial. Indeed, once Lincoln and Jordan Two-Delta (Scarlett
Johansson) discover (spoiler alert!) their home is actually a clone-harvesting
facility and make their escape to LA, one of the few threads of continuity
between the two worlds – aside from Steve Buscemi, who valiantly delivers the
film’s exegesis – is the ubiquity of product placement. In a break for a word
from our sponsors, Johansson’s Jordan peers in bewilderment at Johansson’s
Calvin Klein promo, and somewhere Jean Baudrillard swoons in semiotic ecstasy.
‘I wish there was
more… than just waiting to go to the island,’ Lincoln laments, and this being a
Michael Bay movie, the more eventually takes form as explosions, car chases and
more explosions, foreshadowed by Pavlovian revving guitars and hovering
choppers. There’s also our Scarlett flaunting flaxen extensions and fembot
curves, a nifty scene involving synaptic-scan bugs that one-ups ‘Minority Report’
for ocular heebie-jeebies, and did we mention Steve Buscemi? All is secondary
in the end to a benumbing assault of grinding metal and blasting megatonnage,
but I’m under the impression that lots of people like that sort of thing.